Of Gifts and Giving
by Laurielove
Summary: A necklace, beautiful handwriting ... and no signature. Who can Hermione's surprise gift be from? Why has it been sent? And is there more to come?
1. Chapter 1

**This is the second fic I wrote for the GE Secret Santa, Hope you can ignore the slight seasonal feel of this at this time of year. This was written for the lovely Aleysiasnape. (Original prompt: Hermione gets surprise gifts from an anonymous wizard.)**

**Lucius has quite a different feel here than in some of my fics - he's quite a romantic darling, and rather sombred by his past. Still great in bed though. It's two chapters long - next chapter up tomorrow, promise.**

**Thanks to all who've liked my facebook page so far. If you haven't and would like to, head over and find me on facebook (Laurielove) - the link is on my profile page if you need it. We have a lot of fun over there and it would be so good to have you on board.**

**Thanks also for all the continuing reviews and support. It is such a heart-warming and stimulating thing to read your words. Hope you enjoy this story. LL x.**

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><p>Even in the Ministry of Magic, most people were slackening off in the week before Christmas. The normally sombre corridors were decorated beautifully with enchanted lights and garlands which gave it the appearance of a winter fantasy world. This atmosphere infused the people with goodwill and peace, and nobody was expecting hard work for the last few days before the holiday. Most people eased off their workload and took it easy, chatting and laughing together and taking frequent breaks.<p>

Not Hermione Granger.

As usual, she sat at her desk, head down, eyes focused on the details of the parchment before her. She had, as she frequently reminded everyone, an important new law which needed reviewing and amending before the New Year. She had politely declined her colleagues' offers to go for another coffee or for an early drink at every stage.

She enjoyed Christmas as much as the next person, but she was here to work. She tried to pretend the self-satisfied pride overrode the disappointment and sense of humbuggery which sat like a lump of clay in the pit of her stomach.

People eventually gave up, leaving her to her silence. Once the holidays were officially upon them and the Ministry closed for the break, they knew she'd brighten into the radiant friend they knew, but until then, they left well alone.

So it was to everyone's surprise, not least Hermione's, when, on a Monday a few days before Christmas, an owl fluttered across to her desk at ten-past-eleven, dropping a package agilely before her. It was wrapped in gold paper and had a beautiful iridescent ribbon twirled around it. A label dangled from the ribbon.

Hermione looked around, surprised and confused by what lay before her, almost as if expecting its rightful owner to come rushing over declaring there had been a mistake.

Her PA, Veronica, glanced over. Hermione placed her hand over the object, her cheeks flushing with sudden embarrassment.

Veronica continued looking across curiously. Hermione smiled with exaggeration while still trying to conceal the gift. It clearly hadn't worked. 'That's nice. Wish my boyfriend would give me surprise presents at work.'

It wasn't from her boyfriend. Veronica could be excused for thinking otherwise as Hermione had kept it quiet, but in actual fact, her relationship with Ron had at long last come to a natural end. They remained friends, but she knew he'd started seeing someone else. He had always been hopeless at giving presents at the best of times. This was not going to be from him.

Hermione simply smiled more blearily at Veronica and glanced down at the label, trying not to appear too interested in reading it. It was written in a beautiful script of dark blue ink. It was about as far from being Ron's handwriting as was possible.

"_At Christmas - atonement - long overdue."_

The handwriting alone was enough to entrance Hermione. She stared at it – the letters were long and elegant and written with such fluid distinction it caused a curling of pleasure through her deepest senses. Her mind rattled through a list of who it could be: Harry? Neville? Cormac! _No._ She almost laughed aloud. None of them would have thought of such a thing. And why anyway? What did any of them have to demonstrate atonement for?

With trembling fingers, she carefully undid the wrapping. Inside was a box, encased in velvet. It was a jewellery box, there was no doubt about it. She glanced up. Veronica was staring over but averted her eyes when she noticed her boss looking.

Hermione's heart had caught in her mouth. She placed the box in her lap, out of the prying eyes of co-workers, unhooked the clasp and opened it. Now she forgot to breathe entirely. Inside was a necklace. A delicately coiled, but not insubstantial, gold roped chain sat proudly in the box, and attached to it was an iridescent peacock feather, made from the softest, thinnest conjoined layers of gold which allowed it to shimmer and ripple. It was spellbinding. Encrusted at certain points on the feather were tiny jewels which Hermione knew instinctively to be real emeralds and sapphires.

She was gawping; she vaguely knew it but could do nothing to stop herself.

'Something nice?'

Hermione snapped the box shut and stared with wide-eyed blankness at Veronica. 'Yes.' She clamped her mouth shut.

Suffice to say, even Hermione didn't get much more done for the rest of the day.

She was seeing Ginny, Harry and Neville later on. Ron had said he might come too. She'd ask them.

She daren't wear the necklace, although she longed to.

xOx

Hermione met with the others at six o'clock in a Muggle bar, far from the enduringly prying eyes of wizard London.

After a large gulp of Sauvignon Blanc, she took a deep breath. 'Well, to whomever of you it was. Thank you. I love it.'

Four pairs of eyes looked blankly at her.

'Come again?' said Neville.

She sighed dramatically. 'Oh, come on. I'm not sure which of you sent it, but I don't know who else it could possibly have been. An owl dropped this beautiful parcel on my desk today. It contained ... an amazing piece of jewellery. Come on, one of you knows.' She glanced from one to the other. 'Don't you?'

Her companions looked at each other, expecting one of them to own up. They all pouted with genuine ignorance and shook their heads.

Hermione persisted. 'All right. I know it's not your handwriting. I mean, you've all got appalling handwriting, but ...'

'Thanks a lot,' huffed Ginny.

'Except you, Gin. But this isn't your handwriting, and this isn't the sort of thing you'd give me anyway.'

'Well ... what is it?' queried Harry.

'Got yourself an admirer already, have you?' Ron didn't sound as amused as he was trying.

'But ... it must be one of you ... I ...' Hermione's mind darted through other possibilities again. There really weren't any.

'Come on, Mione. Show us.'

Hesitantly, she reached into her bag and withdrew the box.

'Bloody nice box,' stated Ron, arms crossed.

She opened it.

'Whoa.'

'That is not cheap.'

'Bloody hell.'

'Someone's trying to impress.'

Hermione sighed with frustration. 'But who? I haven't got the faintest idea who this is from. I really hoped it would be from one of you lot.'

'Yes, but ... isn't it all the more fun now that you know it's not?' Ginny was grinning broadly.

'Nice writing.' Neville had sneaked a look at the label. Hermione snatched it back from him.

'Beautiful writing,' stressed Hermione.

'Let's have a look.' Harry leaned over and studied the writing. 'Haven't a clue.'

She tutted. 'Seriously, what am I supposed to do? This is an incredible gift and I don't even know who to thank.'

'What are you like, Hermione? Always worrying about doing the right thing. Just enjoy the bloody thing.' Ron stood up. 'Right, I've gotta go. I'm meeting ... someone.' He was clearly embarrassed.

'Have you bought her a peacock feather necklace yet?' teased Harry.

'Shut it, Harry. Early days. See you later.' He paced off, not overly impressed with the situation.

Ginny sat with her arms crossed as Harry tried to put his arm around her. She resisted. 'You never give me presents like that.'

'Give me time,' he muttered.

'Right. That's me off. Early start tomorrow.' Neville stood and put his coat on.

'If you have any ideas about ... this ... let me know, will you, Neville?'

'How should I know? But whoever it is, he seems to know what he's doing. Certainly got you thinking about him. See you later.'

'Bye.' Hermione sat, staring at the necklace. 'Who would do this? Seamus? Cormac?'

'Cormac!' scoffed Ginny, nearly choking on the last of her drink.

'OK. I know that's ridiculous. But then ... who?'

'Like Ron said – just enjoy it. We're going to have to go. See you soon, Hermione.' Harry gave her a farewell peck on the cheek.

'Bye, you two.'

And they left Hermione sitting, tracing over the intricate detailing of her peacock feather.

xOx

The next day, Hermione had managed to push the matter to the back of her mind. Work was more important, after all.

So at half-past-ten, when the owl dropped another intricately wrapped parcel on her desk, she squeaked in shock.

Several heads turned this time. She quickly picked up the gift and hid it under the desk.

'Someone's keen,' declared Veronica.

'It's just ... official ... you know ... business ... stuff ...' stuttered Hermione.

Veronica raised a dubious eyebrow.

This time Hermione stuffed the object in her bag and hurried immediately to the stationary cupboard. Locking the door tight behind her, she at last dared to look. Same wrapping, same ribbon, same handwriting. God, she loved the handwriting.

"_After stagnation and delusion comes reinvention – a freshness of scent and reappraisal."_

Hermione's brows creased, but she could not deny the increased coiling of her belly. Whoever this was, they certainly had a way of intriguing her. She pulled at the wrapping to reveal a box containing a scent bottle, antique clearly, it looked art nouveau. Hermione unstoppered it carefully and sniffed lightly. Immediately, she knew it was right. A heady aroma of lily-of-the-valley under-laced with deeper rich rose wafted up to her. It enticed her instantly and before she knew it, she'd dabbed some on her wrists and neck. She spent hours searching for the ideal fragrances; this person had found it immediately.

Walking home with Ginny after work, her friend leaned into Hermione and mused, 'You smell fantastic. New perfume?'

'Hm.'

'What is it?'

'Not sure. There was nothing on the bottle.'

'That's unusual.'

'It was an antique perfume bottle ... another present.'

Ginny's eyes widened. 'From your secret admirer?'

'Apparently so.'

'Bloody hell, Hermione. You lucky, lucky cow.'

'Hang on, he may turn out to be seventy, obese and with putrid halitosis. Although I have to say, he does have gorgeous handwriting.'

'And he can't exactly be poverty-stricken if he's showering you with presents like that.'

'No, but ... it's weird. The things on the labels; they're ... as if he's expressing regret ... it's so odd.'

Ginny laughed. 'Perhaps it is Cormac – he was always such a knob at school!'

'There's no way he would give me anything like this though.'

'Oh well, your mystery man is bound to reveal himself at some point. One a day so far. See what tomorrow brings.'

xOx

The next day an owl dropped another present on her desk. Hermione was past embarrassment. A thrill ran through her as she saw the now familiar handwriting.

"_By a great medieval mind – to a great modern mind."_

Flattery now. And as much as she tried not to let it, it was working.

She opened the parcel. It was a book, or rather a hand-written beautifully bound volume of manuscripts. Hermione stared, not quite able to believe what she was seeing.

Before her lay what was clearly an original manuscript edition of '_Spellecrafte of the Courte of Gralorium – the Lore of Truest Magicke_'.

The _Gralorium Lore_ was an almost mythical text which many doubted even existed. It detailed many original spells first invented in the court of the high wizard Gralorium in the fifteenth century. To see it now brought such a course of electric excitement running through her she practically flew out of her chair.

'Everything alright, Hermione?' queried Veronica.

'Yes,' she beamed.

'Yet another gift?'

'Umm. I'm going to call it a day now. Christmas and all that. Lots to do.' In fact, all she wanted to do was to go home and read the book. She could not have asked for a more perfect gift. She may not have known who the mysterious stranger was, but he certainly seemed to know her. Hermione hurriedly grabbed her bag and coat.

'Don't forget the Ministry Yule Ball tonight,' reminded Veronica.

Hermione's heart sank. Just when she'd hoped for a quiet night in with her new treasure. 'Oh ... I ... right ... I'll have to go, I suppose.'

'Other plans?'

'No ...'she sighed. 'I'll be there.' And tucking the book safely in her bag, she made her way out of the office.

xOx

After spending most of her time back at home poring with fascination over the book, Hermione forgot she was going to the ball. When a niggle at the back of her mind at last forced her to look at the clock, it was after seven o'clock. 'Shit!'

After jumping in the shower, she dried her hair haphazardly and then opened her wardrobe. Hermione threw on the first dress that her hand touched. It happened to be black. As she poured herself into it she'd forgotten quite what a plunging neckline it had. She tried to yank the material across her prominent cleavage but failed.

'Just don't bloody lean forward, Granger,' she muttered to the mirror.

She reached for a necklace. Nothing seemed suitable, either too short or too dull. She knew the perfect thing, but until she had discovered the identity of the person who gave it to her she hadn't intended to wear it.

Hermione sighed. _To hell with it._ It was a gorgeous necklace; she didn't have time to work out what else to do. Lifting it from its box, she placed the gold rope around her neck and stepped back to admire the feather as it fell in the perfect spot, nestled tantalisingly at the dip between her breasts. Throwing all caution to the wind, she now grabbed the perfume bottle and dabbed some liberally onto her pressure points.

Hermione gave herself a satisfied look in the mirror. Perhaps she could get into the Christmas spirit a little after all.

xOx

The ball was not the grand affair it had been in the past, but it still brought out the great and good of wizarding society, and the not so great and good. Events such as this always threw up certain people Hermione, Harry and their friends tried to avoid but could never quite manage: Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson … Draco Malfoy.

In the years following the war, various trials had taken place. It always sickened Hermione how many people, the Malfoys being top of that list, had managed to avoid a stint in Azkaban due to their apparent repentance. She had seen little evidence for it. Admittedly, the Malfoys kept their heads down now – especially since Narcissa Malfoy had walked out on her husband – but they were still accepted amongst wizarding society. And sure enough Hermione saw Draco and his fiancé Astoria as soon as she walked in.

'Can't he just stay away?' she muttered to Harry, taking a long drink of champagne.

'Don't let it bother you. He's doing some good work, to be honest. And apparently Astoria's a great influence on him.'

'Bully for her,' sneered Hermione.

'Come on. Just ignore him. You look great by the way. Love the necklace.'

'I thought I might as well wear it, although I'm no further along to knowing who gave it to me.'

Neville approached with a drink for Harry. 'There ya go, mate. Malfoy just spoke to me. Can't believe it. Nearly choked on m' lager.'

'Draco?'

'Yeah. I hate to admit it, but he was actually quite … nice. Apparently his dad's here somewhere too.'

'Oh great,' moaned Hermione with a roll of her eyes. 'Why settle for one Death Eater when you can have two?'

'Draco's not the only one doing good work, you know. Lucius has also come up with some pretty decent suggestions and ideas for the redevelopment of wizarding society. The war was a long time ago, Hermione.'

She stared at her friend in disbelief. '_Lucius?_ Since when have you called him _Lucius?_ Have you gone completely mad, Harry?'

Harry suddenly averted his eyes and coughed. She creased her face in confusion at his reaction before becoming aware of someone standing behind her. Hermione spun around only to come face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

'Oh.'

'Miss Granger. How lovely to see you again.'

'Umm. Hello.'

'Lucius. How are you?' Harry reached across and offered his hand to Malfoy who shook it firmly. Neville did the same.

'Mr Potter. Mr Longbottom. I hope you are well?'

'Yeah, good thanks, Malfoy. Err. Mister … Lucius,' stuttered Neville.

Malfoy looked back to Hermione. His eyes dropped to her cleavage. She flushed bright red and took a step back.

'What a perfect necklace for your dress, Miss Granger.'

She flushed even more scarlet and brought her hand up to cover both the feather and her cleavage. 'Umm … thank you. It was a present.'

'Indeed?' said Malfoy, his eyes lifting to hers again.

'Yes. Well ... there we are. I have to go and … mingle. Goodbye. Coming, you two?'

As she swept past Malfoy he took a deep inhalation of breath. Glancing back at him curiously, Hermione saw him turn to watch her go. A curl twisted through her belly just like it had when she'd opened her presents. She tried to ignore it.

The evening wore on without any more interruptions from ex-Death Eaters. Hermione kept an eye on the presence of both Malfoys, intending to stay well clear of them again. Draco was certainly engrossed in Astoria. He was laughing a lot, something he had done so rarely before. She had to admit, they made a good couple. Lucius Malfoy also appeared relaxed and at ease. He didn't seem so disdainfully arrogant as she remembered him. She even noticed him chatting to some prominent half-bloods occasionally. When he smiled, she thought he looked younger. He had nice eyes.

Hermione coughed on her sip of wine. _Nice eyes?_ Since when had she remarked on Lucius Malfoy's eyes? She glared at him as if he had forced the image of his eyes onto her. He was talking to the Minister now, writing on a document of some kind which the Minister was peering at. Malfoy was tall, she thought, and the cut of his jacket highlighted his long, broad torso. Hermione spluttered out another cough and quickly turned her back on him.

A while later she found herself at the bar; it was her round.

'Miss Granger? May I offer you a drink?'

She looked around. There, turning up once again like a bad penny (albeit a very shiny, lustrous one), was Lucius Malfoy. 'No, thank you.'

'You don't accept drinks from former Death Eaters?'

'Something like that.'

'The war ended a long time ago, Miss Granger. We've all had time to think things through since then.'

'Think things through, Mr Malfoy? And what conclusions have _you_ reached?' She was surprised at how bitter she sounded.

'You may be surprised.'

'Surprise me then.'

'Will you accept my offer of a drink first?'

She nearly said yes. He stood before her, looking down, his eyes fixed into hers. She could only admit: she liked him standing there.

'I can't.'

'You could.'

Hermione sighed and turned away from him. 'I said I'd get one for the others. I'll stick to Plan A.'

'Do you have it all planned out, Miss Granger?'

'I like to think so.'

'And what happens when something unexpected happens? We all need to allow for spontaneity and surprise.'

She spoke forcefully. 'Oh, I think I know how to deal with surprises. I've had quite a few in my day.'

'As have I. Some more enjoyable than others.' He smirked down at her. She found her mouth curling back into a smile before stopping herself.

Malfoy settled up his order at the bar. 'Well, if you won't allow me to buy you a drink, I shall simply settle for this one.' Malfoy gave her another smile. There was that bloody flip of her belly again. 'Goodbye, Miss Granger.'

As he was putting his wallet away she saw a piece of paper dislodge itself from his inner pocket. He hadn't noticed. Malfoy turned and walked away. The paper fluttered to the ground. Hermione picked it up and called after him. In the noise of the room, he didn't hear. She hurried after. He was moving to a quiet table away from the main area. She rushed to catch up with him.

'Mr Malfoy! You dropped thi –' Her eyes glanced at the paper. She saw a signature at the bottom – _Lucius Malfoy_ – and amendments in the same hand over the document. Hermione recognised the handwriting immediately. She staggered, almost stumbling. He turned and saw her holding it. She looked up, her eyes wide with confused amazement.

'_You?_ … It was _you._'

Malfoy stood, his own breathing heavy, realisation dawning. Hermione's hand instinctively moved to the gold feather around her neck.

'The necklace, perfume … the book … all you.'

For a moment there was a fragile silence.

Malfoy looked to the ground. 'I had not intended you to discover ...'

'But I … Why? Why you?'

'Like I said, Miss Granger … I will surprise you.'

'Mr Malfoy … I don't know what to say.'

'Then you should remain silent.' And with a genuine but soft smile, he inclined his head slightly and turned to walk away from her. She couldn't bear to see him go. He was going out towards a terrace. She followed.

'Mr Malfoy!'

When she at last caught up with him, he did not at first turn back to her, but merely glanced over his shoulder. 'You don't need to call me that, you know. You should go back to your friends.'

'Why … Lucius?'

For a time she was not sure he was going to speak, but then, quietly, steadily, he did, all the while looking out over the Ministry gardens.

'There comes a time when we all need to assess what has passed, when we need to move on. I have found myself unable to do so. I needed to … make amends somehow. They are silly gestures, but it was my way of easing my conscience, so to speak.'

'Why me?'

'You, out of everyone, are the one who preyed on my mind the most. Over the years, it was you who suffered the most, due to the attitude of my son, due to my attitude, and then pain, great pain … in my own home.'

'I thought you enjoyed my pain.' Her words were steady and unwavering.

He sneered, not a bitter sneer of refutation, but one of regretful acknowledgement. 'The situation I found myself in, which I admit I brought upon myself, led to certain expectations of behaviour, both from others and from myself. Eventually, I knew no different.'

'So you did enjoy seeing me suffer.'

'At times, the suffering of others can dull one's own pain somewhat.'

She stood, staring at him, half wanting to strike him, half wanting to clasp him to her for his frank self-analysis.

'And now? Why now - this reappraisal?'

'The person I purported to be was destroyed during the war, Miss Granger. Time alone could rebuild. And it has taken many years for me to even dare to do so. This is merely the start.'

She stepped up and stood close to him, not close enough to touch, but she could smell his musky cologne.

'Were you ever going to tell me it was you?'

'I don't know.'

'Why not?'

'Because I was too ashamed. Gifts and trinkets can only go so far to achieving what must be done.'

'You say you know what you put me through. How do you know? How do you know what I went through?'

He looked briefly at her. 'Because I went through it too. Isolation and humiliation. In Azkaban … in my own home … imprisoned by my own weakness and inadequacy. I was a coward and a fool. My wife knew it; that is why she left.'

They stood in silence for some time. A rabbit hopped cautiously across the lawn before skittering off into the bushes. Lucius' eyes followed it absently.

'So what do you want from me?'

He glanced across to her. 'What?'

'What do you expect, Lucius? What is this about?' She searched his eyes.

'I don't understand.'

'What are you trying to gain from this?' She shrugged with bewilderment but asked outright, 'Are you trying to seduce me?'

'What? No!' He seemed genuinely affronted.

'But these gifts are so precious. They're so … _right._ So right for me. I love them. I love them all.'

'I don't want anything in return. I just want to ease my own pain. It's selfish I suppose. But then – I am selfish. I always have been. Weak, cowardly and selfish. That is why I send anonymous gifts to a woman in order to try to ease my conscience.'

'That book, Lucius … it's incredible. I didn't even think it existed. Did you know how much I'd adore it?'

'I suspected.'

She shook her head in bewilderment.

'Are you disappointed they're from me?' he questioned.

'I don't know,' she stated frankly.

'You have every right to be.'

'You're just … so different to what I thought. So different.'

'I confess … I don't quite understand myself yet.' In the dimness, his eyes burned fiercely. Hermione reached out a hand towards his arm. He stepped back, denying her touch. 'Goodbye, Miss Granger,' he said gently. 'I think I shall go home now.'

And he turned and left.

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><p><strong>Come back, Lucius! <strong>

**Find out tomorrow if he does (oh, you already know the answer, don't you?)**

**LL x**

***whispering subliminally* _facebook facebook facebook facebook facebook_**

**Alright! Enough already, I hear you shout! I know, I know, but how else can I spread the news?**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm at 99 likes on facebook! Not bad for a couple of weeks. Go on - someone has to tip it over into triple figures! Thank you for your support. I realise reading fanfic is a largely anonymous exercise, so I appreciate and am overwhelmed by your facebook support all the more. The link is on my profile page, but if you search 'Laurielove' you'll find my page. It has Lucius and Hook on the avatar. Worth searching for just for that, surely. ;-)**

**Thanks for all the reviews for this story so far. Glad you're liking my vulnerable Lucius. He can't always be an arrogant bastard. Can he ...?**

**So here's the second and final chapter. For some reason I found myself loving writing the sex in this bit. Not sure why, but it just seemed rather intense in a really genuine way. ****Talk about sexual healing. ****Hope you like. **

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><p>Hermione now found it impossible to focus on her work. She tried but failed. The Ministry's holiday atmosphere was preventing most tasks from being done. But it was not Christmas cheer which was distracting Hermione now. She could think of nothing but him. His openness, his humility, so different to what she would ever have imagined. And his taut physical presence, restrained but lithe before her. She sat at her desk, two days after the ball, three days before Christmas, head in her hands.<p>

And then, with sudden determination, Hermione grabbed her coat and swept out, finding herself swiftly in Diagon Alley.

Whether it was with luck or instinct, she did not know, but within a few minutes of walking out into the street she saw him standing looking into the window of Flourish and Blotts. Her belly somersaulted. This time she knew exactly why.

Lucius turned to move off. She couldn't let him go. He walked quite briskly, turning up a side street. She followed after, her steps shaking but determined. She at last got close to him as he turned again into a deserted back alley. He had parked his broom there and was now reaching for it. She spoke quickly.

'Hello.'

Lucius turned, and she saw a momentary flash of elated surprise pass across his face. He smiled down at her, only a slight smile, but it was enough.

'Hullo, Miss Granger.'

'I think you could possibly call me Hermione now.' She smiled warmly up at him. 'Ready for Christmas?'

'Hmm,' he affirmed, his eyebrow cocked cynically. Her insides writhed again. 'Not that there is much to do.'

'Will you be at the Manor?'

'Yes. Draco will be with his mother.'

'I'm sure you'll have lots of friends coming over.'

He looked at her steadily but did not answer.

'Did you enjoy the ball?' His voice was so smoothly warming. Why did she think that now, when before it had only ever struck fear into her?

'Yes, I suppose I did. Enjoy isn't quite the word, all things considered.' She glanced at him. 'It certainly took my mind off work. But then … other things have managed to do that a bit recently as well.'

'Still wearing your perfume,' he stated. She smiled broadly and instantly.

'Yes. Can you tell? I love it.'

'Good. It suits you very well.'

She sniffed her wrist. 'And it lasts too. See, I put it on this morning, still there.' Instinctively, without thinking, she raised her inner wrist close to his nose.

Lucius hesitated for a moment before inclining to inhale the scent. Only then did Hermione blush and withdraw her hand quickly.

'And how is your conscience?' she asked, adding a teasing lilt.

He paused, raising his eyebrows curiously. 'It will be some time before I am able to go through a day without a certain number of dark incursions, Miss Granger.'

It was as if something was constricting her heart. She looked at him. The smile she had seen at the ball had been as much a mask as the one he'd worn for Voldemort. This man was broken by the events that had befallen him. He had deserved it. She had always believed that. But his desperate attempts to make amends and continue his life rattled her judgements.

'But, I have to say,' he continued, 'talking to you is doing me much more good than sending a few things through owl post to an unsuspecting witch.'

'Lucius …' She stepped into him, but he retreated once again, just one step.

Hermione continued, fixing him with her eyes. 'You know … I never said thank you.'

'I didn't expect you to. I would not want it.'

'But … I adored your gifts. I adore them all.' She closed the distance between them again. 'Thank you.' And then, leaning up towards him, she brought her lips to his cheek. He had remarkably smooth skin. And he smelt good. She didn't want to move away. She lingered before at last sensing him tense.

'Hermione …' he whispered, confusion lacing his rich voice.

But she did not back off. She brought her lips off his skin, but she stayed close into him, looking intently into his eyes, seeing him look into hers.

'I didn't ask … I don't presume …' he murmured.

'I know.'

And she lifted her lips and pressed them against his. She did not insist, but waited. And then she felt it: a softening, a relaxing of the tension present in him. He pressed his lips against hers and moved them, just a little, but enough. That curling need which had been building in her since reading the label on his first present now writhed frantically. She curled her arms smoothly around his neck and pulled him closer.

This time he did not pull back. She felt strong hands surround her waist and she pressed into him. At length he drew back and let his mouth travel down her neck. She bared it for him.

'Hermione …'

'Yes,' she sighed, holding him into her.

Suddenly, he stopped, trying to pull away. 'I didn't … I wouldn't …'

'Lucius … I want you. I want this. Do _you_ want it?'

His eyes darted around her face, as if searching for the answer there. But then, gently but clearly, he nodded.

He stared hard into her for a moment and she smiled. And when she smiled he brought his head down to hers again and kissed her, this time with no prevarication, with no hesitancy.

'Now ... _now_ ...' she moaned, already fumbling for his buttons.

'Not here. Hermione … let me take you away from here.'

'Take me to your house.'

His brows creased. 'No. No, not there. You can't.'

'Yes. Atonement, Lucius. Take me there.'

His face twisted in what seemed pain, but when she kissed him again, he held her fast around the waist and Disapparated them both to the Manor, his broom forgotten.

Immediately on arrival, he pulled her through his house. Hermione didn't notice the statue in the hall she'd been pushed into so hard by a Snatcher it bruised her ribs, she didn't notice the large oak door to the drawing room, the room she'd been dragged to and tortured in by Bellatrix Lestrange time and time again. All she noticed was the mouth and hands and smell of the man guiding her steadily up stairs.

Lucius opened a door and soon she found herself being settled back upon the lush coverings of a large bed. Without a second thought she reached for the clothes of the man looking down at her.

'Are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?' He was frowning. She pulled him down to her again.

'Shut up and get on with it, will you?' she groaned and continued undoing his clothing.

He grinned. 'Well … if you put it like that.' For the first time she heard that same voice she'd heard all those years ago in Flourish and Blotts. She rather liked it. In fact, she liked it a lot.

Arching her back, she handed herself over to him, feeling his agile hands strip her of her clothes without any of the gaucheness she normally associated with fumbling lovers. And as soon as she lay naked before him, she saw him cast his eyes over her with nothing short of wonder.

She stretched out, running her hands over the velvet beneath her. Gone was any embarrassment, any inhibition, she wanted him irrefutably.

Lucius lay beside her and ran his hand over her body with that same sense of wonder she saw in his eyes. It came to rest between her legs. She bit her lip, a flash of pleasure capturing her as his fingers slid to graze her clit.

She instinctively bucked up to his fingers, but then grasped again for his own clothes, reaching down to his belt.

'No,' he muttered, pushing her hands away. 'I want to see you, want to hear you … let me, let me, please.'

Hermione could only lie back and let his fingers drift back to their goal.

Lucius stared hard into her eyes and brought a hand up to stroke her hair away from where it threatened to distract her.

Hermione's mouth opened to suck in a sharp breath as one long finger was slipped slowly up into her. That first time a man feels you, that first time he touches inside that place so long guarded and sacred: a moment of revelation. And now it was _his_ finger, that of a man she had despised, a man she had wished would be erased from the face of the earth, yet it was bringing her such brilliant delight. She keened with happiness.

And as he circled and felt and discovered her, sliding his middle finger in to join the other, she knew, as with the necklace and the perfume and the book, that this was more right than ever before.

Hermione then felt the softest, sweetest exhalation of breath over her: his own realisation released. Lucius' brows creased and he bit his bottom lip to concentrate on absorbing all she was, his fingers pushing deeper still. She pressed onto them, her hand reaching down almost instinctively to grab his hand and push him harder in, holding him there.

All the while the firm underbase of his fingers where they joined his palm nudged and rubbed her clit. A furtive ripple of pleasure coursed through her and she allowed her eyes to flutter shut. His head slipped down and he took a nipple in his mouth. As he sucked it hard, she felt the assertive flick of his tongue as he tasted and teased it to harden for him.

Now her other hand came up to hold his head against her breast and she revelled in the feel of tongue and lips and the occasional sharp tug of teeth. She continued to clasp onto his hand, gripping it to her with almost violent force, not wanting to lose those fingers from inside, those long, assured fingers which were still discovering her secret intimacy. But at length he pulled back, dragging them out at last, not far, only to concentrate more carefully on charming her clit, on entrancing her body to sing for him.

'Lucius ...' she sobbed, her body prickling with the tense heat of mounting ecstasy.

He moaned against her breast, unable to drag himself too far from the comfort of her tight pink nipple. 'Want to hear you come, want it now ... come for me, come ... please ...'

He latched back to the tight flesh desperately, so hard it shot sensation through her, sensation which travelled straight to her core. Her clit ached for the tips of those fingers, which now were circling and coaxing it, never too hard, never too insistent, but building and building towards release.

And then he grew persistent and regular. He rubbed and flicked and nuzzled unendingly and concertedly, and deliberately took Hermione to the brink. She forced her body to pause, to enjoy that knife-edge instant of electric bliss before the fall, that transient moment of ultimate tension, as perfect in its own way as the moment when pleasure comes raging to capture and shake.

She held her breath, her eyes staring blankly, straight up, her body held, euphoric, expectant ...

And then she shattered. With a cry of fragmentation, her orgasm took her, seething and shaking. In the first seconds of her rapture, Lucius stopped his touch, but then, just as the first wave crashed out of her, he moved his fingers hard over her clit again before pushing them swift and deep up into her. More pleasure hurtled its way chaotically through her, causing her to buck so hard her nipple popped from his mouth. Again she was gripping his wrist, unable to bear his fingers coming out of her.

Her body continued to jerk for several seconds with thick pulses of retreating pleasure. And then she sank into the coverings beneath her, her eyes shut, her body sluggish and indolent with satiation.

Still with her eyes closed, Hermione reached over and held his arm, as tightly as her torpid limbs would allow.

'Thank you ... I ...' His lips silenced her before she could say anymore.

'Come inside me, Lucius ... please, please.' She forced her eyes open. He looked over her, clearly unsure.

'Is that what you want?'

'More than anything.' She glanced down. He was still clothed. Her fingers began to fumble at his buttons. But at last he applied himself with urgency, pulling at his clothes to take them off as quickly as possible.

As he dragged off his trousers she could only stare. He rose out large and hard and instinctively her legs parted for him.

Lucius quickly kneeled and positioned himself, pushing her left leg to the side and drawing it up around his hip.

She reached up to hold his arms, finding them smooth and tight, and her mouth opened with a thrill as at last he squeezed the head of his cock into her. He pushed slowly, allowing ever inch of him to invade her with deliberate and tangible sensation.

She clenched hard to try to propel him deeper, causing his eyes to close and a groan of pleasure to rise gutturally from him.

Lucius pulled a little way out, allowing the tight wetness of her pussy to grant his cock delicious pleasure, then pushed deeper still into her succulent warmth. He moaned again, his face twisting into what looked like a grimace. Hermione knew he was lost. He was wrestling with himself, unable to deny the unrivalled pleasure this woman was bringing him but unwilling to be worthy of it.

'Hermione,' he sighed, ceasing his movement inside her.

She groaned in frustration, desperate to have him filling her completely. 'Please ... _please_ ...'

Lucius looked down at her; she pulsed on him again and he sucked in a breath, burying his head in her neck.

'Hermione ... perfect body ... how did I not know ...?' She barely heard the muffled words, but ran her fingers lightly over his back, feeling the raised edge of long-endured scars etched into the toned flesh.

'Move in me. Move in me now.'

At last he began a steady stroking inside her, clearly enthralled by the velvet grip she held him in, but pulling up, leaning back and pushing her leg out so that he could focus as much on her pleasure. His hand reached down and as his cock drove smoothly in and out of her. His fingers toyed with her clit again, instantly causing her to arch her back as a ripple of pleasure pulsed through her round the thick hard flesh embedding itself in her.

She was ready to come again; he'd ratcheted up her body to such a height that she knew her next orgasm would be as blinding as the one before. She grabbed for his arms, trying to get him to look at her, but his eyes were shut and his strokes seemed somehow detached from his own pleasure.

'Lucius ...' she groaned, so ready for him.

Hermione dragged her hands onto his shoulders and pulled him down towards her, urgently, almost painfully. When her fingers came up to hold his face, he at last opened his eyes. They were bleary with pleasure and his mouth was open to pull in rapid fuelling breaths, but she sensed his reluctance to come.

Hermione pulled herself up and kissed him hard, drawing back and fixing her eyes deep into his. Now his features creased and he brought his head down to whisper in her ear, low and certain, 'I'm sorry.'

_Atonement._

Hermione arched her hips to propel him hard into her and whispered back, 'I know.'

Their eyes locked again and this time his face merely registered contentment. He moved hard into her, two, three more times and then his jaw tightened and his eyes flared; a flash of grey broke from their innermost ring. He was coming. At last he was coming with violent certainty. His cry broke from him, torn out with the sheer force of climax. He crammed his cock as deep into her as possible and his come burst from him fast and sure, each shot accompanied by that guttural wrenching roar.

As she heard and saw him lose himself in her, Hermione came too, her orgasm feeding off the last spasms of his cock, tearing through her yet again.

For a long while after there was silence. Lucius lay, his body gasping in recovering breaths which went beyond mere exertion. It was as if the air he was now breathing was fresh and new and inhaled for the first time. She held him, occasionally bestowing a soothing caress along his spine.

At length he rolled off, and silently, she went to shower. He watched her as she emerged, drying her hair quickly with magic. She crossed to her bag.

'Don't go,' he said, fearing she was about to dress and leave.

Hermione turned to him with a smile and simply pressed a finger against her lips to silence him.

Then she reached into her bag and withdrew the peacock necklace, placing it around her neck. After that she pulled out the perfume bottle and dabbed some on those sensitive, heady places which infused her being. Finally, she reached in and withdrew the copy of _Gralorium Lore_. Then she walked over and stood beside the bed, gazing down at him with a gentle smile, naked save only for his three gifts.

Lucius pushed himself up and stood beside her. His hands ran lightly from her belly up between her breasts to cup the peacock feather, then he lowered his head to her neck and breathed her in. He stayed there, one hand grazing her breasts while toying with the necklace, his mouth sucking and nibbling her neck where the perfume was at its most intoxicating.

'You lied, Mr Malfoy,' she hummed.

'That was my job for quite some time,' he mused between kisses. 'But I have not lied to you since I gave you the feather.'

'Well, let's call it a rather liberal interpretation of truth then.'

'Explain,' he continued, still attached to her neck.

'You told me at the ball that you weren't trying to seduce me.'

'I wasn't.'

'Yet here we are.'

'Thank Merlin for that.'

'I agree.'

'If anyone was doing the seducing, you little enchantress, it was you, you know all too well.'

She held him hard into her and laughed, at last lifting his head and staring into him again. 'Thank you.'

'No. Thank _you.'_

'Fewer dark incursions?'

'Far fewer.'

He was reaching up into her yet again. She would never stop him. 'Do you have to go back to work for the next few days?' he asked amidst a groan as his fingers were pulled up into her pussy.

Hermione briefly thought of the law which needed amending and the pile of parchments which she'd been determined to finish before the break.

'I could ...' she slurred. His mouth was attached to a nipple again. His cock, rock hard already, was nudging against her belly. She pressed against it and delighted in the groan which rose from him. She backed against a table, sitting herself on it and pulling him towards her. As her hand came down to guide him back inside her, she breathed out vaguely, 'But I won't. It is, after all ... Christmas.'

* * *

><p><strong>Well, it was, anyway. Christmas, that is. Apologies for the out-of-season feel. I'm sure you can cope. At least it's snowing in the UK (not where I live though. Grr. I like me some snow.)<strong>

**Love you lots. Oh, and ... I have very very very very naughty goodness to offer soon in the form of a wall fic. You asked, and you shall receive. Nudge nudge wink wink. (Check out the poll on my profile page if you are confused.)**


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